Clash of Wills
by insensato
Summary: A serial killer's preying on Jump City and it's up to Rachel Roth, forensic investigator, and Richard Grayson, detective extraodinaire, to find and catch him before more people get killed. Rating may change in future chapters. Ch 4 now up
1. Chapter 1

**C L A S H . O F . W I L L S  
**

_a chaptered story by insensato_

disclaimer: teen titans will never be mine for the taking

_whoops lol! i submitted a draft version and i didn't notice but fear not, i've uploaded the real version, which i bring to you now. btw this is an AU story, that's why raven has a brother and yeah.. if you don't like it, then i'm sorry but i have big plans for this and hopefully life will be accommodating enough to let me_

_a big thanks to _**_abyssus angelus _**_for the help! rachel is a forensic investigator, not pathologist_

* * *

**T H E . C A S T (to be updated)  
K. Anders, **Actress  
**A. Garner, **Chief  
**R. Grayson, **Detective  
**R. Harper,** Coach  
**G. Logan,** Comedian  
**T. Markov-Logan, **Housewife  
**B. Roth, **Brother of R. Roth  
**R. Roth,** Forensic Pathologist  
**V. Stone, **Chef  
**S. Wilson, **Convict

* * *

The man smirked evilly as he wiped the still warm blood off his weapon with an old rag. "Numbers five and six," he told himself as he put the weapon away into a large pocket in his jacket. He glanced over the dead bodies and smiled at his handiwork. 

The couple lay together on the ground, their hands joined together across their chests. Their clothes lay neatly on their bodies. If someone had stumbled upon the two, that person probably would have assumed they were sleeping, albeit on a sidewalk. However their eyes were open, betraying the shock and fear on their faces. Plus blood oozed out steadily from the wounds to their heads, and a thin trickle of blood continued to stream out of the woman's mouth.

He laughed again and bent down, touching the stream with a glove-covered finger before bringing it to his nose. He sniffed and exhaled with pleasure. "Still warm." He then stroked the woman's face, almost lovingly, tracing a random pattern in her blood.

"What a night it's been," he sighed happily as he stole away into the darkness, careful to make sure no one saw. Not that anyone would anyway, he always chose the best locations in the city, popular enough that someone would eventually chance upon the corpses within a few hours, yet secluded enough at certain times so that he could do his handiwork in silence and unobserved.

* * *

"There's been another double homicide, third one in two weeks." Chief Andrew Garner grumbled. He was a middle-aged man, with balding brown hair and sharp brown eyes. He was a tough no-nonsense man but despite that image, he was very amiable and well-liked. For those who knew him well, he was a wonderful and loyal friend, always ready to lend a hand. For those who didn't, he had a stick up his ass and liked to boss around the subordinates and lackeys. 

Rachel Roth sighed. "I'll be on duty Andrew, even though technically I'm supposed to be on vacation." She looked the part too, in a violet racerback top, a white cotton skirt and white sandals. Her shoulder-length black hair which shone purple in the light, was down and even a little wavy, deviating from her usual severe bun.

"Good. I only trust you to be thorough, everyone else does a slipshod job." He said, purposely ignoring the last part of her response.

_Probably because they have lives and I don't,_ she thought sarcastically. "Thanks for the honor. Anyway, I'll forward the autopsy results to the precinct when I get back to the lab. Same cause of death, blunt force to the head with scalp contusions. I think it's safe to say you have a serial killer on your hands."

Garner shook his head. "Ugh. Well I've appointed a new detective to the case as Detective Hilton has been reassigned to a new precinct in Bludhaven. Shame to lose him, he was always so helpful."

"Fetching your coffee and dougnuts," she added dryly. "Let's hope your replacement isn't so docile."

"Ah only you can get away with insulting my personnel," the fifty-year-old chief laughed. "He happens to be a new transfer from Gotham, very respected and known for his dedication and passion in the field despite his youth. Especially considering how he grew up under Commissioner Gordon's tutelage. Speaking of which, he's due to come in a few minutes for a briefing. If you have time, feel free to stay and meet him, seeing as you'll be working with him closely over the next few weeks or even months."

Rachel shrugged. "I suppose so."

Garner looked up. "You don't sound very thrilled."

"I never sound thrilled," she reminded him. "Besides it's not everyday I get a call and have to cut my vacation short."

He laughed again, his hand resting on the handle of his favorite coffee mug. "You never get a moment's rest in this line of work, Rachel."

"I know, I know, but this is my first vacation in two years."

"You're only twenty four and already one of the best in the industry. We can't afford to lose you to a resort in the middle of nowhere--why, good afternoon Mr. Grayson!"

"Please Mr. Garner, call me Richard. It's a pleasure to be working with you on such a highly-profiled case," the young man said as he strode forward and shook the chief's hand firmly.

Rachel raised an eyebrow as she looked him over from head to toe. The man had raven-black hair that was styled back in a professional manner, and piercing blue-gray eyes. He wore pressed navy blue slacks, a light blue button-down shirt, a navy blue tie and black shoes. _I thought I looked uptight, _she thought as she appraised him.

Garner smiled. "Ditto. Rachel, this is how you should be addressing me."

She rolled her eyes. "Only if I wanted to suck up Andrew, which I never need to do."

"Actually I'm not sucking up," the detective interrupted. "I believe it's called pleasantries. Judging from that last exchange, something you rarely engage in." He smiled toothily, and she wanted nothing more than to sock it to him and perhaps break one of his dazzling white teeth.

"Is that so?" she asked coolly, an eyebrow raised. _Cocky little thing. I ought to punch his face in.  
_

Richard Grayson smiled mysteriously. "Who are you anyway?"

"Rachel Roth, forensic investigator."

"You certainly don't look like one," he commented. "I thought forensic investigators--"

"Well you thought wrong."

"She's back from vacation," Garner said, a small smile on his face. "Fiery little thing, but one of the best."

Rachel snorted. "Last time I read the papers, only the words 'cold like ice' were associated with me. And last time I checked I was just starting out, certainly not enough to warrant such empty praise."

"Certainly look the part, what with--"

"Please," she said dismissively. "Let's not flatter myself. Andrew, I'll be in the lab in two hours." Fixing him with a glare, she added as she walked out, "I have to unpack because of certain unforeseen circumstances."

"Great news. Now Richard, why don't you sit down and take out a notebook? There's a lot to go over and you're apt to be tired if you stand around all day."

"Will do," Richard said and pulled a chair up to Garner's office desk, which happened to be cluttered with paper and pens. "It was nice meeting you," he called out to the disappearing figure. "Friendly isn't she?"

Garner only laughed.

* * *

_Go me I have a new story after like a million months. It's gonna be moving really slowly and sorry if it sounds weird because I dunno how to write about crime scenes and stuff. _

_Please review! I'd like to know your thoughts and comments, yes this does need a lot of work to make for a better first chapter. I promise I'll update it once I get the pace of the story going._


	2. Chapter 2

**C L A S H . O F . W I L L S  
**

_a chaptered story by insensato_

disclaimer: teen titans will never be mine for the taking

_some of you might think that the story might be moving fast and i'm sorry for that and i'll try to correct it.. this is what happens when you get the urge to just write at like 5 in the morning lol. also i tried to get more into rachel's past so you understand more about her.. dunno if it's confusing or helpful but here goes!_

* * *

Screaming interrupted her already fitful sleep and she tried to drown it out by burying her head under the thin cheap pillow. It did no good, she knew it was pointless, but she was bone tired, she craved sleep, she needed sleep-- 

The screaming continued, tortured shrieks emanating from the room next to hers.

With a final grunt, she pulled off the blanket and stalked towards his room. She groped blindly for the switch and within seconds, her fingers hit paydirt.

Momentarily the screaming stopped when he was assailed by the light that emanated from the one 60-watt bulb hanging from the center of the room.

She went over to the ten-year-old boy's side, and shook him awake. "Brian? Brian, you okay?"

He groaned, mumbled something she couldn't hear. His eyes began to flutter as he sat up. "Mom? Dad?" His voice was weak, quavery.

"Brian..." She bit her lip. This was the tenth straight night his screaming woke her up. Ever since they moved here to Gotham eight months ago, eight months after that fatal night, Brian Roth had seemed fine. Normal, happy even. And then suddenly, a little over a week ago, nightmares began haunting him, chasing after him. "Brian, you know they're in a better place. And so are we."

She quieted, seeing his blank violet eyes. The tears began to fall from her own, and she didn't have the energy to fist them away.

"Brian, we'll be okay, I promise we'll be okay." She held her frail little brother in her arms, rocking him slowly on the cheap cot. "We'll be okay, we'll be better than okay."

Her tears mingled with his, and Rachel didn't have the heart to tell him that "Big boys don't cry."

* * *

Rachel sighed as she capped the pen after having written another full report. Seventh one in three days. Four back-to-back pages of her precise, small handwriting. It was inconceivable to her why the supervisors preferred her to handwrite the reports, computers were so much more convenient for both sides. 

She glanced over at the time and wondered if Brian'd take her call. Lately he got annoyed whenever she called to check up on him, telling her that she didn't need to bother him whenever he didn't come home to visit. Personally she didn't think that hercalling twice a week was such a hassle but decided against arguing with him. Never mind the fact that it was her who was paying his cell phone bills, and putting him through college at Gotham State University, home of the Wolverines. Go Gotham State U.

She herself had been a product of the school, mainly for its price tag. She couldn't afford the academically superior University of Gotham, with acost four times that of its state counterpart. Not like the two schools were far apart, U. of Gotham just happened to be in a nicer part of town.

Sometimes she wondered what had gotten her into forensics. She'd always thought she'd be a literature major, but books didn't pay the bills. A random job information session had led her into the field, along with the enthusiastic recommendation by her academic advisor--not that she believed the shit Marcella Perelli spouted. That woman was more concerned with how luscious her lips looked to any person with a dick hanging between their legs than what her students wanted to do.

Rachel had to admit though that the field didn't exactly not suit her. She had her independence, she could actually use her brain to conjure up possibilities and motives, the work, while it could be unsettling, was methodical and to the point. She hated deviating. Except in literature, where she could spend hours talking over every possible angle in a book. Once again though, literature did not pay for the water bill. Besides, she had a brother to put through school, though she wondered as to what he'd do. He'd been crabby when she pressed him for more information regarding his major.

"Ah it'd be good to be nineteen again," she mused out loud to herself as she put away the reports.

"That so?"

_Oh no, not him again. I don't need to deal with his ego trip tonight._ "Shouldn't you be out hitting the bars?" She asked scathingly. "Picking up women for a tumble in bed?" Why couldn't he get the hint to leave her alone? Every time they met, they exchanged a heated conversation full of barbs. She didn't understand why he liked to do this, perhaps he had nothing better to do during breaks than pick on the localinvestigator who happened to be very busy and wasn't in the mood for idiotic banter.

Richard chuckled. "You pegging me as a womanizer?"

"No you idiot, I'm pegging you as a sheep." _Of course I'm pegging you as a womanizer, just look at you. You walk like you're the shit of town and I've seen all those women eying you. Even that stupid blonde twit who came in to report herchihuahua missing and stood there for a full ten minutes gaping at you before realizing that Frankel was waiting to file a missing animal report. _She really didn't feel liketrading insults with him, she was beginning to develop a headache and all she wanted to do was go back to her cruddy apartment and eat a cruddy meal of instant noodles because she hadn't had time to buy groceries.

He looked affronted. "What makes you think of a sheep?"

"Can you just go?"

Richard put his hands up in defense. "Hey, hey, I'm just trying to be civil here."

She rolled her eyes. "For god's sake, I'm busy and I have somewhere to go." _Can't you get the message or are you really blind?  
_

"You didn't look busy," he pointed out, "you were just sitting there in the chair daydreaming. Boyfriend?"

"I do not have to explain myself to the likes of you," she snapped. _How dare he insinuate I sit there and dream about stupid things like stupid men like stupid boyfriends. That asshole. _"The lab's closed anyway, how did you get in?"

"Last time I checked, the lab was in the back of the station?" He said with a glint in his eye.

She growled as she stood up. Richard took a step back as she stormed toward him and swung a left arm out, and then grinned as her hand yanked off the black cardigan hanging from the hooks next to him. "Just go!"

"Why should I?" He asked, grinning as all of his six feet one inch frame stood over her.

"Because I have very important places to be!" She snapped back as she poked him in the chest.

Richard smiled as he pointed out, "But I'm not in your way."

Rachel grit her teeth. She couldn't believe the sassiness of him. This guy, an idiot who acted like a five-year-old, was a detective? A detective Andrew had assigned to a high-profile murder case? The world really was ending faster than she thought. "Well you are now," she snapped and shoved him as she flicked off the lights. She would've slammed the door shut behind her, but the fool was still in the room and consequently it wouldn't have provided her with the sense of satisfaction she craved. Whatever, he wasn't her problem. She had a styrofoam bowl of ramen and an empty apartment to look forward to.

"Night Andrew, I'll see you tomorrow," she called out as she put her card back into its proper slot.

Andrew looked up from his paperwork and smiled. "Good night Rachel, be careful okay?"

"It's eight o'clock Andrew, I'll be fine."

"What with the rash of robberies and our friend on the go, I wouldn't be so sure to say that. Be careful," he said again, eying her. "You know Gotham's not as safe as it used to be."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Andrew, I can take care of myself. I'm not four years old."

"Don't worry, I can drive her home," Richard offered. "I was about to punch out."

"No thanks," Rachel said and hastily left without another glance.

"She's got an independent streak in her, that Rachel. Sometimes, I'm really worried about her." Andrew commented as he stapled some papers together.

Richard stared curiously at him. "Why? She looks like she can take care of herself."

Andrew shook his head. "I couldn't tell you, it'd be an invasion of privacy on her behalf. Believe me, if she wants you to know, she'll let you know." He fixed the detective with a stern glare. "By the way, Bruce has told me about your philandering ways, and I don't mean to offend, but please don't count her as one of your next conquests. She's like a daughter to me to me and though we try not to let our feelings direct our actions, it'd be very difficult to cooperate on a case if I find out you've hurt her. You understand?"

The twenty-six-year-old groaned. Once again Bruce had taken creative liberties when speaking to his contacts. "Bruce likes to exaggerate sometimes, Andrew. I'm not a playboy and never intend to be one."

"Alright but please, stay away from Rachel."

"What makes you say that? I would never hurt her."

The chief snorted. "You've only known each other for two weeks and already we can feel the sexual tension surrounding you two. It's thick enough to be sliced like a cake."

"Sexual tension?" He gaped and could have sworn his jaw hit the floor in shock. It was quite embarassing to hear his boss talking about this.

"That's right. I'm not joking about this Richard. This is an extremely important matter--"

"I'm only trying to get to know her better, and it seems humor's the only way--"

"Yeah yeah. I'm serious though Richard. Don't. You got that?"

Richard nodded his head stiffly. "Got it chief." But deep down inside he knew he'd be disobeying the chief's orders. He didn't know why, but something about Rachel Roth drew him to her, like the proverbial moth to the light. It wasn't her appearance--though her sultry violet eyes, sleek raven-black hair, silky porcelain skin and slender frame did things to him that only a cold shower in his penthouse apartment could relieve--it was her sharp personality and this sense of ethereal vulnerability. He didn't only feel a need to protect her in his arms, but to hold her, love her... Christ where was he going with this? He'd only known the woman for several weeks and already he was feeling the pangs of a romance of sorts. This had never happened with his ex-girlfriends.

"Alright then. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night and you be careful too."

* * *

"Hey Brian, it's me again. I just wanted to know how you were doing, because you never called back. Well hope everything's ok... bye." She snapped shut her small silver cellphone and set it on the table with a sigh. She truly worried about her little brother, even though he wasn't little anymore. While he didn't exactly tower over her dimunitive height of five feet two, he was half a foot taller than her, and that was more than enough. 

Rachel was sitting on a chair by the small folding table, her elbows resting against the plastic surface. She wondered what Brian was doing, but decided better against calling him again. He already didn't like it the few times she called to check up on him and she was afraid if she tried again, he'd be completely put off. All she could do was sit and hope that he was fine. He always knew how to avoid trouble, and she hoped the exorbitant social scene at Gotham State University wouldn't overwhelm him.

A wave of buried memories surfaced and she blanched, recalling the filthy hands that had groped her ass. Four years ago, and she could still feel the disgust that ran through her as she whirled around and delivered a head-turning slap to the perpetrator's cheek. She remembered the only boyfriend she had, who once stuck his tongue into her mouth and tried to get her to have sex with him in the backseat of a car. Needless to say that relationship didn't last long, and from that moment on, she was officially turned off by males. Not that she was lesbian. After those disgustingly horrifying experiences, she simply didn't care for companionship of any sort from the opposite sex, nor companionship in general. College life was utterly lonely, but she had met one girl, Tara Markov, who despite her shortcomings, proved to be a good friend. She had also met a young man by the name of Victor Stone through that career placement program, but their relationship was strictly on the level of siblings. He taught her to cook and even basic tinkering around with cars.

She realized she hadn't spoken to either in well over two years. Some kind of friend she was. After they had all graduated, they simply drifted apart. Victor and Tara had called occasionally, and Rachel realized sadly that it was her fault she hadn't spoken to either in ages. Their phonecalls had been painfully short, punctuated with her silence or monosyllabic responses. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she wasn't talking. Perhaps she should try reconnecting with them. It would be worth a try to get rid of this invasive sense of loneliness that dogged her each day.

Rachel scrolled through her phonebook directory and pressed dial when she reached Tara's number. She prayed it still worked.

After four rings, the call connected. "Hello, this is Tara." A warm voice, though still familiar, said.

She gulped. "Tara?" She berated herself for how vulnerable and pathetic she sounded, alone in her $850-a-month cramped two-bedroom flat. Brian and she had moved to a slightly better neighborhood after one too many robberies occurred nearby their old apartment. He didn't think there was a point in getting a two-bedroom apartment because he would be going to college in a few years and he didn't want to condone his sister sleeping in the den but she refused and insisted he deserved his own room and the accompanying peace that came with knowing she had a room too. She had been seeking out a two-bedroom apartment in the hopes that it signified to Brian to commute but he had wanted the full college experience.

"Who's this?"

"This is Rachel, Rachel Roth.. I uhm, knew you from college?"

"Oh my gosh, Rachel? I haven't talked to you in years! How are you? Where are you living now, what are you doing, are you married, where's Brian going--" The questions were pouring out from her like she was a faucet that hadn't been turned on in years.

Rachel had to smile for old times sake. Tara's voice didn't sound vastly different, though it had developed a slightly deeper and mature tone to it. "I'm fine. I'm still living in Gotham, I'm a forensic investigator, no I'm not married and Brian's also at Gotham State. How are you after all these years?"

"Damn it Rachel, you wouldn't believe me if I said so but I'm married to Garfield Logan. Yeah, you're probably shocked, I never would have guessed it either but we just crossed paths one day and from that moment on it was pure bliss. Oh I tried sending you an invitation to the weddingbut I guess I sent it to the wrong address and you never got it. Not like you would've missed much anyway--it was a very small wedding but still really special and memorable. Can you believe that Gar's a comedian at the Gotham Bay? We were so happy when he got the news, it was wonderful, like his dream come true!"

"A belated congratulations. I'm sorry I wasn't there--"

"Let's not ruin this with your apologies okay? Gosh I'm so thrilled to finally be talking to you, it's been ages really, do you know Victor's the head chef at Le Cordon Bleu? Oh, speaking of which, he's invited Gar and I to this fundraising banquet for Gotham's hospitals that the restaurant's holding for this Saturday evening and you just have to come!"

Rachel smiled. "Thanks but no thanks Tara, I really appreciate the offer though."

"No ifs, ands or buts! You are definitely coming! I don't care if you don't have anything to wear! Okay well maybe I do just a teensy bit but don't worry. We can meet for lunch one day and then you can come over to my house and try something on--ah sorry Gar's on the other line, mind if I call you back later?"

"It's alright. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay, good night, oh and by the way, Victor's changed numbers and all so I'll give you his new contact information next time 'cause I really have to go, sorry and good night Rachel. It was really nice talking to you again! Bye!"

She felt slightly better after that warm exchange. It was refreshing to know that Tara and her were still on a good note. She felt honored that Tara had invited her to such a prestigious event, but the event was also a fundraiser of sorts and while she could probably scrounge up the minimum $500 needed to maintain graces for attending, it would be awkward tagging alongside a couple. There was also the less important fact that she had nothing to wear.

Rachel went to her closet and needed to take only a quick cursory look to know she had no dresses of any sort. Much of her wardrobe was composed of her work clothing in neutral colors like black and violet and white and the occasional neutral--black slacks, blouses, a few sweaters, and lab coats. She had some more casual clothing, but she rarely wore them and they had been impulse buys when the department store had a clearance sale last season. She hadn't found an occasion to wear them save til almost a month ago when she was going to take a brief vacation to neighboring Jump City just to get away from things. How she found the money in her stretched-tight budget to manage, she never knew, but there was enough of a surplus to warrant a little get-away that she desperately needed.

Living in Gotham could be suffocating sometimes. Her life was dictated by routine. She worked in the lab six days a week, and on Sundays, the day she was off, she stayed home reading a book and catching up on the neglected chores. She had tried vainly to get together with her brother to hang out for half a day but he always refused. She didn't want to push him away so she didn't press the issue.

With a sigh, Rachel threw out the styrofoam bowl and washed the fork. It was a little after ten and she bet almost everyone her age was out right now, partying or drinking or whatever. No one would be home alone, eating a dinner of ramen and sleeping when the night was still young. But this was her life, and she was doomed to live the routine through.

* * *

The inviting aromas of take-out assaulted Rachel's nose and her stomach growled in protest to the meager peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich it had digested an hour ago. The rich buttery smell of the chicken alfredo continued to permeate her lab, despite the fact that it was in the very back of the station and the communal lunch room was by the front. What torture. 

She strode over to the door and was about to shut it to prevent further drifting of the wonderful smell when that insufferable detective popped his head in. "Hey, did you order anything?" He asked with his trademark grin.

"No and I'm busy." She made to shut the door but Richard stepped fully inside.

"You sure? 'cause there's an extra order of lasagna and no one seems to be claiming it..."

She glared at him. "Are you suggesting I'm forgetful enough to not remember if I ordered something?"

He shrugged carelessly. "People get wrapped up in work."

"I didn't order. Goodbye."

He refused to leave and dangled the bag in front of her. "If no one's claiming it, you should take it. Mario's is to die for."

"That's wonderful to know but I already ate."

"Sure you're not hungry? This stuff is too good to pass up..."

She growled, "What part of I'm not hungry do you not understand? Or perhaps your ears are chock full of earwax that they can't hear a thing. Perhaps you'd like me to take a hairpin and shove it down your canals to clear it out."

"Aw I was just offering you an extra order."

"No thanks!" She nearly shrieked and shoved him out the door before slamming it shut and locking it. He was unbelievably irritating, was he so stupid as to not get the hint that she wanted to be left alone?

Richard remained on the other side of the door, still holding the extra order that he had requested for her. He knew she didn't eat much, if she even ate at all, and judging from her appearance and manner, had a tight budget to work with. Her clothes, though respectable and nice, were somewhat shabby and beginning to show their age. Her shoes were solid but cheap as was her bag. He knew that an investigator's starting salary wasn't much, especially if she was affiliated with a local police station. No matter how good she was, as Andrew praised, excellent work wasn't well rewarded in a public service especially if one worked in a career that dealt withbeing in thebackground.

However a salary for someone like her should've more than covered the basics. Maybe she wouldn't get to splurge like some of his female friends, who didn't bat an eye at the prospect of dropping $600 for a pair of uncomfortable stilettos, but she should have enough to pay the bills and have a little pocket money. Enough to get nicer clothes and shoes. Obviously a big chunk of her salary was going someplace to something she deemed more important than herself and he was determined to find out. He wasn't a detective for nothing.

* * *

_iris night: wow thanks...im flattered that you would put this as one of your favorite stories when it sucks compared to some really good ones out there_

_angst equinox: this is au... so raven has a brother_

_esmeralda: like i said, i looked up the terms and i'm still not sure what the term is.. so i'll stick to calling raven a forensic patholigst right now. if i find out what the term is i'll correct it_

_raerobxsansesshyfan: thanks a lot and i will try to update as much as i can_

_tecna: thanks, once again im flattered you think this is really cool_

_i haven't started writing the third chapter yet but it will prolly involve several meetings between richard and rachel hehehe... imagine a situation where he finds out where she lives and drops by for a visit ;)  
also i know i haven't mentioned the killer at all in this chapter, but don't worry guys, he'll come out next chapter all right. i'll also be introducing probably another character from the cast.. and maybe, just maybe i'll get to that fundraiser... though you probably will all know that rachel will go with a date. who wants to guess who's her date lol?_

_  
thanks again for reading and please review, it's good to know that peopel are actually reading this!  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**C L A S H . O F . W I L L S**

_a chaptered story by insensato_

disclaimer: teen titans will never be mine for the taking

* * *

_tecna: the current apt raven's living in is her third one. she moved to the second one after her parents died with her brother and then they moved to a better one. _

_falke-ness: yeah brian seems ungrateful but you'll see_

_forest wanderer: keep on guessing hehe_

_alena-chan: thanks a lot... i'm in love with your stories_

_

* * *

_

_Sorry for the lack of update, I was busy lately so to compensate I wrote more. The chapter's really long and I was thinking of cutting it into two, but you guys were looking forward to the fundraiser and I decided to have some delicious scenes before that one. Note, this chapter contains a little limey content... don't say I didn't already warn you.. it's not rated M for nothing.  
_

_I also tried to get into a little scene with Rachel working.. so excuse me if I sound disrespectful in any way, I mean no offense. Like I said, I have no experience in writing these kinds of stories, I actually tried reading a detective story but it just doesn't compare to the romance novels! Hehehe _

_Well enjoy this next installment!_

* * *

Rachel stared into the depths of her herbal tea whilst stirring occasionally with a spoon. She had just finished examining yet another body—the word "corpse" was too disrespectful sounding—and was on break before observing the other one. Once again the serial killer had struck, this time claiming a teenaged couple on Horizon Point, a popular make-out place for Gotham's youth. 

She sighed as she thought of the distraught parents and their hysterical actions when they had received the call notifying them their children were dead. Victims of the Jump City Clubber, as the newspapers had taken to calling the murderer. It was hard to disassociate herself from the fact that she was poking and prodding the bodies of people who were almost Brian's age. It was so easy to superimpose his face on that of the sixteen-year-old boy's, and she had had to stop and take several deep breaths before continuing. Not that she found anything different, the murderer had used the same weapon on his seventh and eighth victims. She guessed it was a crowbar.

After another sip of the steaming liquid, she put the lid back on and went to wash her hands before pulling on a new pair of gloves. The other technician had already carted away Alan Greene's body to the morgue. She'd be examining the girl's cadaver now. Pulling over a cart with a new set of sterilized tools, Rachel pulled the surgical mask back over her mouth and nose.

"You workin' on Vera Rancourt's body?" Damaris Seaward asked, pushing into the back of the room the empty gurney. She was about forty, slightly plump, and had been working at the station as its sole investigator for nearly twenty years. Though she was amiable most of the time, sometimes she was in a bad mood and that was when Rachel was careful to steer clear of her. Of course Damaris liked to order her around too, now that she had a trainee to do so.

Rachel frowned distastefully at how tactless her supervisor sounded. "I was just about to start actually."

The middle-aged brunette nodded. "Ya want me to help?"

"If you want."

"Rachel, it's a yes 'uh no."

"It's up to you," Rachel responded as she examined the head, her gloved fingers flying over the surface. She lifted up the stiff dirty-blonde strands of hair, streaked with dried blood, andheld them back with a hair clip wherethey wouldn't interfere. She then leaned forward, looking at the wound.

"Ouch," Damaris commented, peering over her shoulder. "Hit hard enough to break bits of the skull. He never did none of that before." With a tweezer, she carefully picked out pieces of bone, placing them into a small metal bowl.

"Fractured left temporal bone."

"No matter of any sort."

"Two broken digits on left hand, three on right. Victim showed signs of struggle."

"Probably attempted to defend herself against the onslaught. It'd account for the broken fingers."

"Long but shallow gash on right calf, looks to be post-humous."

"Several contusions on the left forearm and shoulder."

They worked quietly. When they were done, they gently placed the body into a new body bag and onto a gurney. They then began to clean the work area, spraying disinfectant all over the examination table. Damaris dumped all the instruments into a bucket labeled "To be sterilized" while Rachel wiped down the table. Afterwards, they removed and threw away their surgical gloves and masks. Then they shrugged out of their lab coats and placed them into the "Dirty" bin.

"I'll take her outta here," Damaris offered, knowing her trainee's dislike of the morgue, and was gone without another word.

Rachel grimaced. Once again she was left to writing the report and of course, in hand. How nice it was to be a low-level trainee, doing all the grunt work. Then again, she was grateful that the older woman was the one who carted away the bodies. She had been in the morgue several times, each time only because it was necessary. She hated the sensation of being in that cold, sterile room with the low hum of the refrigeration unit in the background.

She went over to the desk where her tea patiently remained and pulled out the chair. Grumbling to herself, she uncapped a pen and began filling out the basic information.

Two hours later, she was finally done, after having rewritten it. Not only did her supervisors prefer the reports handwritten, but also free of white-out or cross-outs. That basically meant that she either had to write very slowly to ensure no mistakes, write a first draft first or write normally and risk having to rewrite the whole thing. The old report lay in shreds in the plastic bin, confidentiality purposes and all dictated that she couldn't recycle a discarded report. It had to be shredded first.

Rachel placed the report into a plastic file and then put it into the "Out" box. She glanced at the clock and sighed. It was only half past one.

Venturing out into the main station, she passed by many colleagues without a word or nod. In turn, they did not acknowledge her either. She was called the ice queen for a reason. That suited her fine though, she never really did like conversation or people much.

"Hey there," a voice called out and she mentally groaned. Not him again.

Purposely ignoring him, she strode towards the lounge to retrieve her cellphone. She figured she might as well catch up with Tara and Victor since she was done and had nothing to do for several more hours.

"Aww Rachel, don't tell me my brilliance now deafened you—"

She whirled towards him and fixed Richard with a dirty look. "What do you want?"

"Just on my way out for coffee, would you like to go get some with—"

"Continue on your way out please," Rachel retorted and walked right past him before turning down the hall to the closet and employee lounge. Richard grinned after her, taking long loping strides alongside her. "Coffee's not down here, coffee's out the door," she reminded.

"Decided I'm not thirsty after all."

Rachel exhaled slowly. Checking to see that no one was around, she then grabbed a fistful of his well-ironed blue shirt and shoved him against the wall. She was surprised at her own strength, but didn't let it show. "Are you stupid?" She hissed.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, rather enjoying this position. She was pressed bodily against him, her breasts jutting into his chest.

"Don't play stupid with me."

Richard shrugged. "I can't enjoy your company?"

She rolled her eyes. "Riiight, like you've ever been in my company."

"Where am I now then?"

"On your way to hell," she snarled.

Richard grinned. "Oh really?" He leaned forward and smashed his lips against hers. "Nah, I don't think I'm in hell—"

"Spare me the corny joke," she seethed. "How dare you kiss me, you pompous, ugly, stupid, wretched—"

He shut her up with another kiss, and took advantage of her momentary shock to switch positions so now that it was her against the wall. She groaned into the kiss, and he couldn't help but press himself against her more as he deepened the kiss. She felt so warm and inviting and comfortable. It took all the self control to not just pick her up, bring her into the empty storage closet and take her in the darkness.

Rachel finally was able to push him off. "What was that for!"

"Couldn't help it. You see, I had to prove that your statement regarding my going to hell was wrong and so..." He winked at her.

_Son of a bitch._ "Asshole," she glowered, wiping at her lips.

"Don't tell me you didn't like it."

"I didn't like it, I hated it."

"Yeah, say it to my face then."

Rachel smirked. "Gladly." She tiptoed up, and shouted, "I HATED IT!" He jumped back in shock and she had to laugh. "Idiot. Don't you ever do that again."

"Mm but you can't resist me," he said cockily. He loved how feisty she was, she sure could hold her own.

She opened her mouth, but the opening strains of a cello solo began to play. She nearly jumped in surprise before realizing it was her own cellphone. Hadn't she set it to vibrate...? Whatever. Grateful for the interruption, she hurried into the lounge and unlocked her locker. Hastily she flipped her phone open.

"Hello, this is Rachel speaking," she breathed. "Hello Tara—what? I'm sorry, but I can't, no, I'm at work right now and I can't just up and leave—how about after work? I know, but maybe like in a few hours? Oh... What! Are you serious? ...ugh fine, fine, I'm on my way..." Groaning, she stuck her phone into her pocket and then strode past Richard.

"What was that about?"

"It's none of your business."

He laughed. "Come on now, you know I won't leave you alone until you tell me."

Rachel growled but decided to ignore him. He'd leave her alone soon enough. When she got to Andrew's office, she knocked on the open door and stepped inside. "Good afternoon Andrew."

The chief's tense face broke into a smile when he looked up. "Hello Rachel, what can I do for you?"

"Uh, you remember how I asked to take the afternoon off for personal reasons right..." She asked slowly, hoping he wouldn't throw a fit. Not that he was the type to anyway.

Andrew chuckled as he organized some folders. " I just got your report, good work as usual. Go along kiddo!"

"Thanks a lot!" She answered gratefully as she ran back to the lounge to get her jacket and bag. She nearly collided into Richard, who had been hovering by the entrance. "You bumbling fool! Can't you watch where you're going?"

"Ah but I wasn't the one in a mad dash out," he pointed out.

Rachel threw him a dirty look. "Whatever." She retrieved her things and then, for good measure, punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow, what was that for?"

"For being a prick," she snapped as she walked outside to where Tara Markov-Logan's car idled. " Tara, you know you're not supposed to stand in front of the station!" She scolded. "What if there was an emergency?"

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. "Please Rae, I know I'm not supposed to do a lot of things. Hop on in! We've got an hour's ride ahead of us!"

"What? Why?"

"You don't think we'd be able to find a decent dress for you here in Jump City now do you..." Tara asked, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "Hey, who's the cutie smirking?"

"I thought I was borrowing a dress—huh, what cutie? Tara laughed as she pointed towards Richard. Rachel's face instantly darkened. "Oh him? He's Detective Richard Grayson, a complete asshole. He most certainly is not cute! He's just an arrogant, stupid, piggish little idiot."

Tara raised a well defined eyebrow. "Riiight. Tally ho Richie-poo! Rachel sends her love to you" She yelled out as she pulled into traffic. "Hey, don't hit me! We haven't seen each other for two years, and first thing you do is smack me on the arm."

The purple-haired woman snorted. "You certainly haven't changed too much."

"Still the same icy temper," Tara retorted. "Oh it'll be so fun to try on dresses!"

"Speaking of which, why can't I borrow one of yours?"

"We're not the same size."

"Yes we are—"

"Nuh uh. You're two inches shorter than me."

"So what? I can just wear a pair of higher heels."

"Nope. Besides I'm driving so I get to choose," Tara giggled. "Come on Rae, this is girl bonding. Remember?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Keep your eyes on the road Tara. I'd like to not become another statistic. You know there were 539 traffic-related casualties in Jump City last year, and roughly ten percent of them resulted in death or amputations?"

"Morbid as usual. Thanks for the information by the way. You just made my day Rae."

"Glad to hear."

* * *

Tara grinned evilly to herself as she put on the finishing touches to her make-up. She pursed her lips and dabbed away at the extra lipstick. "You done yet Rae?" She called out towards the bathroom. 

Rachel stepped out from the bathroom. She was wearing a classic strapless dress in violet, and the silky material clung snugly to her curvaceous figure. The damn thing had cost well over $300 and her idiot of a friend had just waved it off as an overdue gift as casually as the beaming associate had swiped Tara's credit card."I still can't believe you Tara." _Forcing me into buying some revealing dress and wearing three inch heels.. so great to know that this is what reunited best friends are for._

"Oh c'mon Rae, that dress looks fabulous on you. It really brings out the color of your eyes."

"Why do you get to wear a black dress?"

"I don't feel like wearing color tonight."

"That's bullshit!"

"You know it," Tara retorted. "Now come here so I can do your make-up."

"If I want to look like a high-class hooker I'll go to the stripclub."

The blonde snorted. "That doesn't make sense. Besides, you're offending me by suggesting I'd cake your face with make-up. You know I would never do that. What do you think this is, a beauty counter at the department store?"

"Oh all right." Rachel grumbled as she went over unwillingly to the chair Tara gestured to. Tara began applying light touches of makeup, a little color here and there. Within minutes, she was done, and Rachel glanced into the mirror. She couldn't help but let out a little gasp of surprise at how.. _beautiful_ she looked. Tara, true to her word, had kept the make-up simple.

"Jewelry time!" Tara cheered, pulling Rachel out of her brief reverie, and dug out a simple silver chain with an amethyst stone in the center. She pulled out a matching pair of amethyst earrings. "Put those on," she ordered as she put on a diamond pendant and drop earrings on herself. "And be careful to not scratch your nail polish off."

"Yes mother," Rachel said sarcastically, wondering about how coincidental it seemed that the blonde would own amethyst pieces when she was a self-professed lover of diamonds, sapphires and emeralds. "You know, you really don't have to do this--"

"Nonsense! Oh my god, it's like ten to seven and we still haven't put on our shoes and where's Gar?"

"Right here, at your service," the aforementioned man announced, as though he had been summoned. He was a lanky person, a little on the thin side, but he had an appetite rivaling that of a tiger. His coffee-colored hair had been slicked back with a little gel, and he wore a well-tailored gray suit with a green tie. "Hellooooo Rachel! Nice to see you again!"

"Shut up while you're still ahead," she snapped as she slid into those menacing stilettos. "Tara, these heels look like they'd snap off any second. Why pay $500 for these Man-oh-low Blan-ix?" She stumbled over the unfamiliar name.

"Ma-no-lo Blah-niks actually," Tara sang out as she stood up confidently. "How do I look Gar?"

"Absolutely dashing!" He grinned. "Are the ladies ready?"

"Are you driving?" Rachel asked as she got up unsteadily. Already her shoes were killing her, and she hadn't even been standing for a minute

"Psh of course not, my friend's picking us up. You might have heard of him, he's, oof! Tara, what was that for?" Garfield complained, rubbing his side. She glared at him and he quieted. " Never mind."

Rachel nodded slowly. _Sure thing__ Ga__r._ _Just make sure you're not trying to hook me up with anyone, 'cause if you are, I hope you've written a will already. Or if I'm feeling nice, you just won't be able to have children. And you know how devastated __Tara__ will be._ " Okay then. So when will this 'friend' of yours be coming by?"

"Any minute now… in fact that should be him!" The brown-haired man declared when he saw a limousine slow to a stop in front of their apartment complex. "You ladies ready?"

"Just lemme grab a shrug," Tara said, "Rae, you want one as well?"

"No, I'm fine," Rachel answered as she walked out the door slowly behind the couple. With every step she took, she could have sworn she was making minute cracks in the wooden floor. She would have to be careful at the fundraising gala, if she didn't want to risk lawsuits for impaling feet in her path.

They took the elevator down to the lobby, and the doorman smiled as he opened the door for them. "Have a good night," he said pleasantly and they all thanked him.

Outside, it was already somewhat dark and the white limousine provided a startling contrast against the inky sky. The waiting chauffeur opened the door and Rachel climbed in, followed by Tara and Garfield.

The lights switched on and Rachel let out a horrified shriek when she saw who else was in the limousine. "What the fuck is this?" She blurted out, surprised by this turn of events.

Tara and Gar exchanged glances on the sly. "Didn't you know, Rae? Wayne Industries is the one hosting this fundraiser."

The midnight-haired woman sputtered, "But that doesn't explain what… what _he's_ doing here!"

Richard grinned. "It's nice seeing you again, dear. Mind if I explain?" He asked rhetorically to Tara and Gar, who had smiles so wide that they went from ear to ear. "I happen to be Bruce Wayne's adopted son. As such, it's important that my presence be seen at such events, not that I myself don't support the causes."

"Forget this. Tara, Gar, sorry, but I'm leaving."

"No way!" Garfield protested. "You paid for your seat too!"

"I don't care. I refuse to be anywhere near that stupid prick," Rachel snapped, her arms folded. "It's either him or me."

Tara groaned. "Rachel, what do you have against Richard? He's a really nice down-to-earth guy."

"I have my own reasons and I don't need to share them," she huffed. "Of all the things to do! Lying to me, plotting this—"

"This isn't a conspiracy against you Rae," Tara said, trying to calm down the ruffled woman. "Honestly. Gar got to know Richard when he was trying to get a gig, and Richard helped him out a lot. He's a great friend, and you'd love him if you got to know him too."

Rachel let out a derisive, very unladylike snort. "Whatever. Fine. I'll stay. But I absolutely refuse to talk to him."

"I'll take that," Richard said with a wink and was rewarded with a punch to the shoulder. "Damn, you can punch."

"Wanna see if I can kick just as well?" She threatened.

"No that's alright. But you know what I would like to see? I'd like to see—oof!"

Rachel smirked pleasantly and Gar stared at her. "Rachel, did you just do what I think you just did!" He asked, horrified.

"You mean this?" She asked innocently and proceeded to jab the prick in the ribs again. She felt just a teensy bit bad but laid away the guilt. Served that arrogant dick right.

Richard glowered at her. "You're awfully perky tonight. Did Tara lace your lunch with drugs or something?"

Tara smacked him with her purse. "Don't insult me Richie."

"Don't call me that again... that's such a horrible nickname," Richard grumbled as he rubbed at his sore spot. Rachel sure could jab hard. Very hard.

Soon enough, but not quickly enough for Rachel, the limo pulled to a stop in front of Le Cordon Bleu, the restaurant hosting the fundraiser.

They stepped out and entered the restaurant. Richard spoke briefly with a maitre'd and within seconds, they were ensconced in a very lavish looking ballroom. There were already many people, dressed about in their finest, milling about and making small talk. These $1000 a head fundraisers didn't exist solely to benefit a certain cause, but to also allow for networking among the societal elites.

As Rachel took in her luxuriant surroundings, a waiter politely offered her a flute of champagne. Determined to enjoy the night that had cost Tara and herself so much, Rachel accepted and took the requisite sip before moving on. Already she wanted to sit down in the corner somewhere and hide. She was never one for these events. She always felt so out of her skin, like she didn't belong period. It was like being a fish out of water, except the fish flapping to death would've looked a hell lot more composed than her. Part of her wanted to make a run for it and call it a night.

Tara and Gar were descending on people like a tag-team swarm of locusts, Rachel noted. It was rather frightening how easily they could disarm icy exteriors. She saw Prince Pompous talking with some tall redhaired woman in a clingy green number. _She's probably a supermodel or someone like that. Well her hair should more than match the size of his ego._

"Hey beautiful. Why are you all by yourself?"

Rachel looked up hastily into the clear green eyes of a copper-haired man. He was similar in build and height to that moron, and she bet she wouldn't be able to tell the two apart from the back if they had the same hair. It was a scary thought. "Number one, I'm not beautiful. And number two, I'm not all by myself.

The man raised an eyebrow. "That so? Well then, if you don't mind me asking, where's your companion?"

"Uhm... oh you must mean my real good friend of course!"

He nodded slowly, playing along. "Mmhm. So where is he or she?"

"She," Rachel prompted. "Leemi A. Lone."

"What a charming name. When will she return? I'd love to meet her. Name's Roy Harper by the way." He offered a hand out but she didn't take it. "Courtesy dictates you should respond with your own name," he chuckled.

Rachel scowled. "Piss off."

"Yow, declaw yourself."

She rolled her eyes. "Please. Go mingle with the other mindless idiots milling about like headless chickens. I'd like to be able to breathe in a clean environment free of excessive odors."

"You lost me."

"Glad to know. You can get back on the road by doing a one-eighty."

"Awfully hostile, aren't we?" He smirked.

"You know, you remind me of a guy I know."

Roy smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Believe me, if you knew who he was, you wouldn't." She downed the last of the wine and within seconds, a waiter whisked away the empty glass and placed a new one by her side. "He happens to be an insufferable, imperious, ignorant, infuriating little idiot."

"I'm horrified!" A new voice joined in and she groaned instantly, recognizing who it belonged to. "Hey there Harper, what's up?"

Roy grinned and they exchanged a strange series of handshakes before spinning on their left heel and slapping palms. It must have been some secret boyhood handshake. "I'm great, Rich. What about you?"

She stared at the both of them, her lips forming a small "o". "You know each other!" Her tone was accusing.

"But of course," the red-haired man explained with a sheepish grin. "Knew each other since we were in diapers. Speaking of which, he still wears one."

Richard chortled. "I'd rather be incontinent than incompetent!"

"Aw that was cold man," Roy answered before returning his attention to Rachel. "So how do you know Rich? And what is your name?"

"He's a dickhead. I would prefer to not know him," she replied quickly. "As for my name, I'm sure your very good friend would be more than happy to oblige to give it to you."

Roy chuckled and was about to make another comment when the red-haired woman Richard had been speaking to mentioned him over. "See you guys later at the table. Kori's calling."

"We're sitting at the same table?" Rachel asked, horrified. Richard's grin told her the answer she didn't want to hear. With a groan, she gulped down the wine. She could feel the alcohol beginning to get to her. Didn't the restaurant have central air conditioning? It was getting uncomfortably hot and she wanted to peel herself out of her own skin. Fanning herself with a hand, she glanced around. "When's dinner being served?"

Richard glanced at his watch, a subdued affair in platinum. "Very soon I think. Are you okay?" He asked concernedly. Her face had taken on a flushed complexion and her eyes seemed glassy.

"Of course I am," she snapped. Grabbing the edge of the table, she made to get up and almost fell backwards were it not for his incredibly quick reflexes. "Let go of me you asshole!"

"Formal English please," he countered and was surprised when the woman in his arms did not respond right off. "Rachel, are you ok?" He glanced at the nearly empty glass of wine. Oh no. "Rachel... how much did you drink?"

She weakly stared up at him and held up seven fingers. "I dunno... one? Two? Not a lot... I'm not the type to drink."

He swore to himself. Of all the things to happen—she had to go and drink herself to a hangover. Didn't she know that the strongest wines were always served at such events? "Rachel. You supposedly drank seven glasses. Seven. According to your fingers anyway, which I'm more liable to believe right now."

"No, I only had two," she mumbled listlessly. She perked up when a waiter neared. "Hey mister! Two for the kid and me!"

Richard stared at her in shock as she took the full glasses and downed each in a matter of seconds. "Christ, Rachel!" He snatched away the empty glasses and returned them to the bemused-looking waiter. "I'm taking you home right now," he said seriously.

"Nooooo... I didn't even get to eat anything yet... can't we stay another hour? Pleaseee?"

"No, I'll get something for you on the way."

Rachel stood as tall as her five feet two inches plus three from her stilettos would allow. She poked him sharply in the chest. "You are not my momma! My momma's dead!" She shrieked and then fell against him in a dead faint.

People stared at the two in shock and Richard had to do some quick-thinking to salvage both their reputations. "Nothing to see hear folks, just a little practice for her audition tomorrow. Real good actress isn't she? She even pretended to faint!" He laughed and stopped almost immediately, feeling quite foolish. However the spectators had seemed to accept his words and gone back to their fraternizing. Thank god they were all self-absorbed and easily distracted. He sighed as he scooped the limp woman into his arms and left through a back entrance.

* * *

She giggled again, tottering unsteadily on her feet. Richard had already helped her out of her three-inch shoes in the elevator, he didn't want to risk her breaking an ankle in her drunken state. He made to help her walk but she swatted his hand away playfully. 

"Richard?"

"Yeah Rae?" He asked. He didn't know why he said that instead of her name, it had just slipped but strangely, it felt comfortable.

"I'm thirsty," she drawled, leaning against him.

"I know, but first let's try to walk to your apartment. Which one is yours?"

Rachel laughed. "Uhmm... thirteeeeeeeeeeeeeen... gee."

"Thirteen-gee?"

"Beats me! Hehehe I rhymed, I'm a poet and you know it!"

Richard groaned silently to himself as he half-carried, half-dragged the young woman down the corridor. Of all the days to be gentlemanly, though he would never have let her gone home alone, but to help her into the somewhat rundown apartment complex and into the elevator and up the floors to her apartment. The entire time, she had been giggling as if she was the only one being told a joke. While surprising at first—though her laughter was aurally pleasing—it soon became rather tiring. "Yes Rae, you're a poet." Finally he was able to bring themselves to the front door. "Where are your keys?"

"In my bag," she slurred, leaning heavily against the door. Her eyes were somewhat dulled, and her face had begun to develop a wan complexion. "Riiiight pocket."

He found her keys and tried the first key. The door swung open and Rachel nearly fell in through the threshold had it not been for his quick reflexes.

"Be careful," he scolded gently as he helped her inside into the dark hallway. Groping for the light switch, he nearly recoiled when he came face-to-face with her. She had a crooked smile on her face. "Want some water?"

Rachel stared hungrily at him. "Not anymore." She licked her lips in anticipation.

He sighed as he led her towards the refrigerator. She sat down on a folding chair by the small dining table, her hair falling loosely round her shoulders. While getting her a glass of water, Richard looked around his surroundings. It was almost as he imagined, sparsely decorated with spartan furniture. There were small personal effects scattered around the flat, little attempts to personify the space, such as photographs and books and other knick-knacks.

"Here's your water Rae."

"Thanks," she mumbled and took a sip.

Richard went towards a picture and felt a wave of jealousy wash over him when he saw a young man's face in a picture with her. At first he was disappointed, then realized that they both shared the same vibrant violet eyes and had similar facial features. He surmised that they were siblings, she probably the elder. He turned around and this time, bumped into her.

"Richard?"

"Yes?"

She stared up at him. "Will you stay with me tonight? I'm... lonely."

His heart sang when he heard those words. She wanted him to stay with her, to watch over her, to protect her... she trusted him... It was an amazing feeling, not something he had ever felt before. This little tender pang... but then his mind sneered. What on earth made him think that she actually trusted him... Look at the situation. She was completely drunk and it was the alcohol that was loosening her lips and making her say things she would never have said. Richard wondered what to do. It wouldn't be right to leave her alone in such a state... He'd stay, but only to make sure she'd be okay, then he'd leave. "Alright Rae."

"Thank you so much! No one's ever done that for me before!" She leaped at him, throwing him into as fierce a hug as a drunk could do.

Richard was aware of how pressed against him she was. She seemed to fit snugly against him, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Her breasts were crushed against his rumpled shirt, and her legs sandwiched between his. It was wholly an arousing situation, and one that he should not be in. Should NOT. "Rae..."

"What?" She asked innocently, her hands splayed across his firm chest. She smiled, as she began to run her hands all over. She liked how he felt, so solid and emanating such strength. She also liked how he smelled, there was this slightly musky scent to him, one that drove her crazy. She wanted nothing more than to slide a little tongue across his naked chest. She imagined it smooth and hairless, and rippling with muscle. Exploring, her fingers chanced upon a little nub and her fingers began to circle around it. Richard let out a little yelp and she continued at a slightly faster pace. "Do you like this?"

He groaned. "Uhh..." His body felt like it was on fire and his member had begun its upward ascent, before projecting out ninety degrees, causing an unsightly tent. It brushed up against her thigh, and it took all of his willpower to not take her right then and there. "Rae, Rachel... stop," he said hoarsely. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

"What if I don't want to?" Her thick long lashes fluttered coquettishly. "Don't you want me?"

"This isn't right," he grunted at last. "I won't take advantage of you in the state you're in."

"But I'm not in any state," she responded plaintively. "I want you. And I'm sure you want me," she added huskily as a hand slipped down to his erect member. She brushed her fingers lightly over it and grinned at his little moan. "See? Dick, don't lie to me. Little Dickie wants me."

"Rachel..."

"Please stay with me." She pleaded, her hands once again at his chest, though now they clutched at his collar. Her eyes looked desperately into his. "Don't leave me alone."

Richard bit his lip and acted. To hell with propriety. "I won't." He swept her up into her arms and led her to her bedroom.

* * *

_I've never had a lot of wine, so I dunno how potent it is in getting people drunk easily. I know the hard stuff does but vodka and stuff seem so unclassy at fundraisers lol _

_Thanks and please review! TSATS will be out within a week I promise_


	4. Chapter 4

**C L A S H . O F . W I L L S  
**

_a chaptered story by insensato_

disclaimer: teen titans will never be mine for the taking

* * *

_well i'm back from hiatus. thanks to those of you that took the time to review, you dunno how gratifying it is to know that people are willing to take that extra step to give me feedback :)_

_also you guys should all take the time to read "putting the pieces back together" by justanothermutant. that is one fantastic and unique story but unfortunately the author has gone awol.

* * *

_

_abyssus angelus: yeah i'm starting to think i made rich a bit too forward.. i'm speeding the pace of the story too fast and making you guys assume they've known each other long enough for him to be so forward_

_tecna: i hope you update your fanfics as well, i really can't wait to read "seductive stranger"_

_a raven's last song: well you'll see what happens in.. a few lines ;)  
_

_alena-chan: thank you, i wanted to try to add more dimension to this story. i hope you update "passion divine" soon, i'm really eager to read "passion divine" actually but i feel so bad for robin! what with him having to stand by while his girlfriend and rival are playing a couple for a mission and speedy liking raven... whose heart will she break?_

_anyway, on with the story!_

* * *

Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, dancing upon the contours of the nestled bodies in the bed. Porcelain skin lay juxtaposed against olive gold skin. 

Rachel stirred and then her eyes jerked open when she realized she was not alone. A pair of arms held her round the waist, their grip having loosened over the course of the night. Her eyes bore into a well-sculpted chest, and hastily, she glanced down at her own, expecting to see herself equally naked. However her black strapless bra was still on.

Rachel didn't dare lift up the covers that shrouded this mysterious man's and her lower halves. She didn't want to know. Her head throbbed and her mouth felt dry like someone had taken a cotton ball to it. Not knowing what course of action to take--it wasn't everyday you woke up with a stranger--she decided it was best to scream, so scream she did.

Instantly her companion leapt out of bed and grabbed for his gun that lay on the end table. He swung around, his body wound up like a clock, his fingers round the trigger.

Momentarily she stopped, shocked to realize that she had been sleeping with none other than Ricard Grayson. The sight of him, with tousled hair, clad in nothing but green silk boxer shorts would have been comical if the situation had been placed in another context. But the situation here was not a laughing matter.

"Richard," she said at last, as she got out of bed, her fingers clutching tightly the sheets round her nearly nude form. "I want to know what happened..." Her voice broke and it took all her willpower to not begin crying.

Richard blinked and then put the gun back on the table. He rushed forward to envelope her but she stepped back fearfully. "Oh my god. Rae, Rachel--I need you to hear me out for one minute--"

"You slept with me didn't you!" She whispered accusingly, her hands trembling with a mixture of shock and rage. She felt an urge to choke him, slap him, hurt him--how could he do this to her?

"No! I swear I didn't. Now please, clam down, and hear me out," he said in a pleading tone, as he tried to near her.

She shook but steeled herself. "A minute, a minute and no more," she allowed at last. Fatigue was beginning to overtake her. Immediately he took her into his arms, holding her tightly, before bringing her to the bed to sit. He sat next to her, and took her small hands into his.

"Rachel, look me in the eyes. I want you to know I'm not lying, I would never ever do anything like that to you." She nodded weakly and he continued. "Last night, you had too much wine and got drunk. I brought you home instantly. I gave you some water and then later I helped you out of your dress--it's hanging in the closet--and asked where your pajamas were. You were kinda out of it and I didn't want to snoop so I just tucked you in in your underwear. Afterwards I considered leaving but I didn't want anything to happen to you so I decided to crash on the couch. Anyway you woke up a few minutes later and started crying so I went to see what was wrong. You begged me not to leave you and..." he sighed, taking a breath. "I knew I shouldn't have, but I agreed to sleep next to you, because you were so upset. It didn't sit right with me to just leave you like that."

The ebony-haired woman could only stare at him wordlessly. Why would he do such a thing for her when she had been nothing but cold to him?

"For what it's worth... Rachel Roth, I am so sorry. It was bad judgment on my part and I totally understand if you're disappointed, and hell, disgusted with me. I'll keep our relationship strictly professional from now on." His stormy blue eyes held none of their usual glimmer and light.

"Richard..."

"You didn't eat last night so at least let me make you some breakfast and then I promise I'll be on my way. I think I overstayed my welcome." He made to get up but she pulled back at his hand, stopping him.

"Thank you Richard," she said softly, looking him in the eyes. "It means a lot that you stayed with me, it really does."

He smiled gently. "Take a shower to freshen up," he suggested. "I'll see if there's anything I can make, otherwise I'll take you out for brunch since it's almost ten thirty anyway." With that he got up and pulled on his slacks. "Mind if I just walk around in this?" She nodded and he smiled and went over to kiss her forehead.

She watched his retreating figure. There was more to the cocky boy than met the eye and a part of her desired to learn more about him.

* * *

The man stared at the walls of the room which were plastered in pictures of young couples, giving the suggestion that the room belonged to a teenager, if it weren't for the several knives or darts that were embedded in foreheads or eyes. Red paint was splattered in random splotches, giving the illusion of blood. 

"Young love is so pathetic," he thought sneeringly as he rubbed a leather glove tenderly. After months of use, the material had become soft and supple. He took good care of the gloves, making sure to keep them pristine so that they were spotless despite their gruesome usage.

He strode forward to another corner of the room, glancing upon an old news article: _YOUNG GENIUS DETECTIVE ARRIVES IN JUMP TO JUMPSTART HIS CAREER._

"And here I was thinking I'd have to come find you, my little pet," he smirked as he traced a finger round the picture. A smiling black-haired man stood out from the rest of his colleagues in the yellowed photograph.

"Myself, eight; JCPD, zilch. Oh, what a wonderful world we live in."

* * *

_I could never have my Robin rape Raven hehehe... who here actually thought they slept together? C'mon now, he's a gentleman, he could never take advantage of her! ;)_

_This may sound upsetting but I was thinking of how I wanted the story to come out and I realized I am leaving out crucial and necessary elements. In the future this may call for revamping chapters and longer update-times to accommodate my idiotic rushing ahead._

_Anyway please read and review guys, it only takes an extra few seconds! ____  
_


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